His Dark Material: The Swords
by Father Lukas
Summary: PG (just in case for later chapters and for romance) The fourth and fifth dark materials that can open the Garden of Eden in the hand of the devil and an angel


I don't own any characters including Will, Lyra, Lord Asriel, Xaphania, Pantalaimon, kirjava…(u know the drill)

I Alive

The coming of the night cast hideous shadows across the mountainous territory. Silhouettes leapt from behind crags and boulders. The air burned with cold and reeked of rotting flesh and burning oil. A deep crater shattered the land, destroying its once perfection. Towering cliffs and shelves left umbrellas of darkness. 

            Underneath one such shelf was gap of desolate darkness, plunging down within the darkness, deep into the heart of the mountain. The passage writhed and twisted deeper and farther into the mountain than any other. The tunnel funneled and the rocks became more crumbled as if there had been a recent disturbance. 

            A brilliant flash of light around a curve told of end. A great cavern in the deepest, farthest, most remote center of the landform lay there. Brilliant streams golden particles meandered about in the cavern, twisting this way as if to escape a hideous crack which destroyed the brilliance of all the cavern. The golden rivers disappeared within the crack, turned to nothing. Tall crags cast formidable shadows, this way and that. Huge formations left giant silhouettes lying across the ground at odd angles, left by the brilliant light.

            And out of the darkness emerged a figure. Its shape was hunched, crumpled, and limping, still a shadow. It fell to its knees, and immediately was illuminated by light flowing around him, as if it was coming from him. Throwing his head back, the figure howled a cry of despair followed by a snarl of anger and anguish from a dark shape near him, echoing all around the chamber, resonating loudly and sharply. Blood smeared across the rocks, pounding an imprint of a bloody fist into the crumbling rocks. White knuckles came away, blood lining the spaces between each one. Blood was soaking into the back of his head. His hair was dried a dark brown with it. A rushing noise emanated from him as he pushed air out between his teeth, as if to push away his sorrow in a single breath. Then he breathed in between his teeth, breathing in hatred and anger at everything. This was followed by a menacing snarl from the shape beside him. His face tilted upwards, expressing a murderous passion, at once overcoming his sorrowful face. His deeply shadowed face darkened but did little to hide his age, and especially, his weariness. He howled an angry cry, muffled by the layers of the mountain.

            High above him, the land was still, but the air, hardly so. The air was reeking, the ground was rotting, but the sky was alive with the final moments of the battle. Howling witches swept across the sky, swooping downwards like hawks whenever they saw an angel of the Kingdom, cut off from his companions to send it scattering into the winds. All the sudden, a great cloud exploded in the fury of thousands of angels streaming for safety, taking their chances among the ferocious storm of arrows and walls of burning torches held in hand by the flying women, sending them outlined in fire, spinning downwards, away from the sky before scattering into the basic components of life again.

            Still, angels streamed through the gap in the witches attacks, always regrouping to charge again. They were glowing lights in the sky drifting across, beating their wings furiously. Charging from the opposite horizon was steady line of lights. These angels were of the Republic. As the Kingdom's greater forces came to grips with the Republic's, a new force took to the air. A few dozen dragonflies the size of hawks shot past the witches and towards the angelic battle. Tiny riders leapt from their steeds, digging their poisonous spurs into the cool bodies of the Kingdom's angels. The poison affected even angels, who had no real flesh. Within a few moments, the Kingdom's sure battle stance was overcome with writhing angels twisting their wings. Another few moments later, their weapons clattered at the rocks below, being that there was no longer a hand to hold them anymore. The angels of the Republic drifted across the sky towards their allies the witches followed by the Gallavespian mounted dragonflies. 

Together, they plunged downwards toward the peak of a mountain, surrounded by clouds, so as they didn't notice a faint glow in the Eastern horizon, blazing across the sky to the west where the terrible crack lay, within the great cavern. She, it was a female angel, circled uncertainly above a crater, before spiraling downwards toward the tunnel. Her glow was faint, her being an older, but wiser angel. 

It was her who defied the Authority in the second rebellion, preaching the truth of him. He was no God, nor creator. Just the most powerful, and first angel. But he was dead now. Being so old, growing nothing but older since his withdrawal from the world. Once exposed to the wind, he was blown into the air, nothing more than atoms that would soon make life. Now he really could be the creator he had had others believe he was.

But the Authority was nothing now; just when the world needed him and his power most of all. This was a time of crisis, and the world realized they needed him and his Regent the most of all.

She dived into the darkness, taking unsure steps, stumbling, breathless. Her hands were stretched out before her, probing for the walls. Her angelic hair touched the cave top and her head cracked against a protruding rock. Scrambling back on her feet, she continued. Rocks pressed deep into her feet. The pain was overwhelming her, but with a will of a god, she pressed forward, touching, stumbling, and balancing. The glow of the golden particles-Dust-illuminated the wall. With a cry of triumph, she leapt forward into the great chamber. A web of gold threads, and streams cascaded into the crack-which was a merging of two great abysses. One was a great window where the precious Dust was dissolving. The other…if it was really open, it would be too horrible to speak of. Without the Authority, his Regent, or the angel Michael the world would be doomed. She crept up to the crack, laying her hand at the edge feeling for the edge, meaning to close it, stiffening her wings-

"Xaphania?"

She spun around, bringing her hand away, squinting into the shadows at the emerging figure.

"Lord Asriel?" 


End file.
